The Fighter
by JustAnotherWeasleyGirl
Summary: I was alone and a prisoner and toy to the Snatchers. I was a muggle. I lost my wizard twin brother, I was probably miles away from home, and I was hungry as hell. WARNING: Discusses rape.
1. It's Blondie

Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own Harry Potter, just my OC's and this plot line. This is the only disclaimer I'm putting up because if I don't own Harry Potter the next chapter, then I won't own the the next one either. :(

I got inspiration for this story from the song 'The Fighter' by Gym Class Heroes. It's a good one. (:

* * *

**One: It's Blondie**

"Get up, mudblood."

Spit sprayed my face as I was roughly jerked up by my arm. I stifled a whimper and took a look at the man who had me in his hard grasp. A sick snarl rested on his thin white lips, and malice was shown plainly in his cold black eyes. The hand that wasn't gripping my arm smacked me hard across my face. I felt a stinging sensation in my lower lip and let out a small gasp.

Dick, I thought furiously. I struggled, digging my nails into his arm to try and get him to let go of me. The man didn't even flinch.

"You're a pretty lil one, aren't you?" another man said, his voice a low growl. I shifted my gaze towards him, and he bent down a little to meet my eye level. His eyes were gray and just...empty. He grinned at me and grabbed my face between one of his hands. "My my my, you _are_ a pretty one," he chuckled darkly. "Look at her, Jones. Think we could take her to the pub?"

Jones, the one who had held me, dropped me suddenly, and I hit the ground with a surprised "Oomph!" I put my hands on the floor of me and Matt's tent, propping myself up. I glared at them, clenching my jaw.

"I think we certainly could," Jones concurred with an evil grin, eyeing me wickedly.

"Leave us alone!" I commanded angrily, my voice shaking as I finally found it. When these men - 'Snatchers,' Matty called them - attacked us, I hadn't even screamed. I had no idea what to do besides get behind Matt who had his wand raised and his glasses sitting crookedly on his nose. The men had just laughed.

"A mudblood and his muggle sister? Too easy," Jones had said, chuckling.

And for them, it _was_ easy.

It had all happened so fast. Another Snatcher - there was about five in all - had grabbed Matt's right arm, the arm holding his wand, and twisted it so far back, Matty dropped to his knees and cried out in pain. My heart had lurched painfully as Matt had gathered the strength to growl "Don't touch her." It was the bravest I had ever seen my twin, and I had felt like a proud mother.

The Snatchers all burst out laughing. I looked over at my brother who watched me with sad eyes. Those matching hazel eyes we shared. I could read them like an open book. They told me he loved me and that he was so sorry this had happened as he was kneeling on the ground with his back towards a Snatcher that held his wand against Matt's back. I stared right back, giving him a tiny reassuring smile, letting him know that I loved him as well.

I did. I loved my twin brother more than anyone or anything else in the world. He was my best friend, even when he was at Hogwarts, and I was in regular muggle school. We had sent letters back and forth all through the years he went to Hogwarts with his owl, a little furry brown thing named Oz, every day we could. I loved him, though he was a wizard and I have no magical powers. However, apparently having a muggle family was wrong if you were a wizard.

"You've got spirit, girl," Jones said with a wide smile. "It's going to be so fun to crush it."

He stood then and said, "Kill the boy. Girlie's comin' with us."

I screamed "No!" as loud as I could as the gray-eyed Snatcher's mouth formed the words to kill. Just two words to end a life. I watched in horror through my tears as my Matty fell to the ground, face first, with the 'I love you, Genna' still stuck in his eyes. I screamed his name, shutting my eyes, feeling the tears slide down my cheeks. Jones jerked me back up and slapped me again in the same place he did before to shut me up. I didn't feel it. I didn't feel anything right then except for the sudden emptiness and numbness. I opened my eyes back up to stare at my brother, my beautiful twin brother, with his eyes still open and his body laying across our tent floor.

Not Matt, I thought over and over again, stomach churning. Not Matt, not Matt, not Matt_._ I squeezed my eyes shut to clear my teary vision and opened them back up as Jones dragged me out of the tent. I wanted to cry out as I lost sight of the body.

"Time to go, mudblood," Jones' growl of a voice said in my ear. I looked over at him, his face inches from mine. Our eyes met, and he grinned maliciously, his bright white teeth surprising me.

Suddenly, I felt like I was being sucked through a tube. I couldn't breathe and felt as if I were suffocating and was dropped to the ground on my hands and knees. Rocks stabbed into my hands and shins. I took in huge gulps of air and looked up to find myself no longer in the woods with a tent and the body of my dead twin brother. I was in front of a small wooden place that reminded me of the outside of a bar. The wood was faded and ugly, and there were only a few windows in the front; one was broken. The shack was surrounded by overgrown weeds and eventually more trees. It was quite a large clearing in the woods for such a small shack. Was this the pub they had been talking about?

Then I realized I was whimpering and that I hurt severely on my stomach. I cried out as I looked down and saw the front of my purple University of Manchester t-shirt was already soaked with dark, warm, wet blood. I felt dizzy and fell over onto my back, my vision of the black sky blurring. Please let me die, I begged silently in my head. Half of me was already dead anyway.

"Oi! She's splinched!" was the last thing I heard before everything slipped away.

* * *

I woke up with a stinging pain in my stomach and looked down at my body. A large white bandage was wrapped around my stomach a short ways up from my belly button. My plain navy bra was still on, but I felt sick that anyone of those Snatchers saw me without a shirt. I suddenly groaned, realizing that I wasn't dead, but my best friend was. I felt like vomiting.

"How do you feel?"

I looked up to find a bored-looking woman with short dark brown hair and eyes to match sitting in a chair at the foot of the most uncomfortable bed I have ever been in in my life.

I frowned, looking at the unfamiliar woman. "Like shit."

"Well, that's generally how one feels after they splinched," she replied, standing up and coming closer to me. I sat up, wincing, to get a better look at her and the room I was in. She wore a black sweatshirt underneath midnight blue wizard robes and wore a stud in her nose. Her eyes were guarded, which made her look a lot older than she probably was. In her mid-twenties, I guessed.

"Splinched..." I mused aloud. Matty said something to me about splinching once.

"When a wizard or witch doesn't Apparate or Disapparate correctly and leave a piece of their body behind," she raised an eyebrow. "You didn't know that?"

"I'm not a witch or wizard," I retorted.

She raised both eyebrows this time. "You're a muggle?"

I nodded slowly. She looked at me for a long time before saying, "You should just listen to them and do what they say. It'll probably be much easier for you in the long run."

That angered me, and I leaped up off of the bed, flinching at the pain that ran through my torso and clutching my stomach. I stood right in front of her, scowling up at her. She was taller than me by three inches, which is something I was used to. Everyone had always towered over my mere 5 feet.

"Obey them? So I can die a coward?" I asked in almost a snarl.

"So you don't have to die at all, blondie," she replied quietly. Her answer kind of surprised me.

"Well, maybe I want to," I said coolly, backing up, running a hand through my tangled blond waves, and sighing. The woman looked at me. I felt her studying my movements.

"You want to die?" she repeated, looking at me curiously. I met her gaze and something flashed in her eyes.

"There are worse things," I responded, thinking of the things those Snatchers might do to me.

"You say you don't want to die a coward, yet wanting to die isn't cowardly?" she asked slowly. I scowled at the woman.

"Who the hell are you anyway? Another Snatcher?" I inquired hotly.

"I'm T - Wolfe. My name is Wolfe," she stammered. I quirked an eyebrow. "And yeah. I'm... I'm a Snatcher."

I frowned and sat back on the pale blue sheet-covered bed with a lumpy-looking pillow in the corner. "Then why do you care so much if I live or die, anyway? You're a murderer. You murder innocent people just for not having the same abilities you do, and you murder people just for being related to them."

She looked away from me. "I - I don't know. Sorry I bothered."

"And now you're apologizing?"

She sighed and strode towards the door, placing her hand on the doorknob. Her back still facing me she said, "See yah, blondie," then opened the door and walked out of the room. The door shut with a click. I closed my eyes, just noticing the loud unfamiliar rock music blasting outside the door. I placed my hand on my stomach over the bandage. I took a deep breath and let it out heavily.

I was alone and a prisoner. I lost my brother, I was probably miles away from home, and I was hungry as hell.

I opened my eyes back up to look around the room. It was small and bare with the exception of the bed and two doors: the exit that Wolfe had used and one on the other side of the room. The wallpaper was just bloody awful; it was a hideous orange color with some sort of design along the top and peeled in random places all over the room. I grimaced. The wallpaper reminded me of Grandma Marge's house. The floor was wooden and old and just eighty splinters waiting to happen.

I got to my feet again, determined to find a shirt. I was still wearing my ratty old hole-filled jeans I used to paint in and my dirty red Converse trainers. So add that to my bra, my bandage, and the mess on top of my head I like to call 'My Hair'. I bet I looked damn fabulous.

I grimaced, holding my stomach as I crossed the room over to the second door. The rusty doorknob jiggled as I turned it. The door opened easily, and I peered inside. A rusty looking toilet sat between a shower and a sink, surrounded by more hideous wallpaper, only this wallpaper was puke-green. The floor was tiled. My eyes swept over the tiny bathroom, and I went in further to open the cabinet underneath the sink. Inside was my black duffel bag, and I snatched it faster than a hobo could snatch a sandwich.

I took it back over to the bed and placed the bag onto the bed to search through it, finding my clothes, toiletries, hairbrush, hair elastics, and a bottle of red nail polish in the side pocket. I grabbed a t-shirt and pulled it on with a short gasp of pain as I stretched my stomach.

I chewed on the inside of my bottom lip, debating on what to do next. I didn't have to wonder for long, seeing as how right then came a loud knock on the exit/entrance to my lovely suite.

"Erm... come in...?" I said, confused. Since when do murderers knock?

I felt my expression sour as the gray-eyed Snatcher that killed Matt strutted into my room. He gave me a wicked smile.

"There's our pretty girl. How'd you like to come out and see us?" he inquired, showing yellowed teeth as his eyes glinted.

"I probably don't exactly have a choice, so does it really matter what I'd like?" I shot back heatedly, glaring furiously at him, my nails digging hard into my palms, and my teeth biting so hard into my cheek, I tasted blood. Oh, I know what I'd like to do to you, you fucking wanker.

He just chuckled. "True. C'mon now, luv."

It took everything within me not to try to beat him to death then and there.

I strode forward with my head held high and walked out of the room into a narrow hallway. I followed the sound of the loud rock music and found myself in a large bar-looking type set-up with a group of twelve or so Snatchers. I found Wolfe standing in the corner, watching the other Snatchers insult each other and guffaw loudly with a drink in her hand. She met my eyes suddenly, and she winced like she knew something bad was going to happen.

Knowing my own situation, something probably was.

"There's my pretty little mudblood," a familiar growl called out. I looked over to find Jones standing about ten feet away by a table covered in an assortment of meats, which made my stomach whine. He stood tall - a bit over 6 feet, it looked like. His dark hair was cut short, and sort of flattered his strong jawline. He could be attractive if he wasn't so fucking horrid. "C'mere, slut."

I bit into my cheek harder and glanced at Wolfe. She looked pained. I frowned in confusion but pulled my eyes away and walked forward towards Jones. I halted a foot away from him, and he looked me up and down, grinning that wicked grin. Jeers came from the other Snatchers as they gathered around us to watch Jones probably humiliate me. I still kept my head held high, meeting Jones' gaze, unflinching.

"Turn," he demanded. I quirked an eyebrow, but indeed, turned slowly, letting him look at me. "And stop." I stopped, my face facing his again. "Hmm," he mused aloud, mockingly. There were chuckles throughout the room. "You'd look a lot better if you weren't covered in those baggy clothes. Good sluts don't wear t-shirts and jeans."

"Gee, well maybe I wear them because I'm not one?" I replied sarcastically.

He just laughed, as did the other Snatchers. "Feisty," he commented, stalking closer to me. As he kept talking, however, his voice lowered into a deadly whisper. "But feistiness ain't gonna getcha nowhere here, luv. Unless nowhere is hell."

"Too late," I countered, my voice a low whisper also. "I'm already there."

He grinned again, leaning forward. "You haven't even come close, bitch."

More jeers came from the crowd, and Jones leaned back, crossing his arms with an evil smirk. "So what's your name, slut?"

_Genna_, Matt's voice whispered in my head. "Does it matter?" I asked, wheels turning in my head to think of something else.

He laughed. "I'll need somethin' to put on your headstone."

I smirked. "It's Blondie," I finalized, glancing over at Wolfe once more. She looked at me with a mix of amusement and confusion.

Jones smiled. "Blondie, eh? And you say you ain't a slut."

I snorted. "Are we done here?" I asked, faking a yawn. "I've got a splinch to recover from, thank you."

Jones looked at me up and down once more, and nodded. "Yeah, for now. And when you've recovered, you better wear something else."

"I don't have anything else."

"Well, we'll just have to find you something then, won't we, _Blondie?_" he mocked. I immediately felt my stomach turn uncomfortably as I thought of the things I would most likely be wearing in the future.

All the Snatchers laughed horribly, and I glared up at Jones. "Why won't you just kill me?"

They all laughed harder, and Jones joined in as well, his laugh a sadistic one. He bent closer to my face, grabbed it between his large, calloused hand, kissed me roughly on my lips, and shoved me backwards back towards my room. I growled and tried to leap forward to hit him, but my arm was grabbed painfully. I found myself being yanked back. The gray-eyed Snatcher dragged me back to my room as the Snatchers exploded into an uproar of horrid laughter and cheers. He pushed me through the doorway into my room, and I fell to the floor with a cry of pain. I heard the door slam shut, and I was, once again, alone. My stomach felt like it was burning, and I rolled onto my back, letting tears slide down the sides of my face as I stared up at the ceiling.

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**AN: **Hello all! I want to thank you for checking my story out. I already have chapters two and three typed up and half of chapter four, and they are longer than this one, trust me.

Did you think this was interesting? Do you have any grammatical or spelling errors that I didn't catch? Would you read the next chapter? Constructive criticism is welcome. Let me know in a review. Thank you! (:

Much love,

JAWG


	2. Dirty

**Two: Dirty**

I stared at the swinging string hanging down from the light bulb hooked into the ceiling in the middle of my small room, three metal springs from the bed poking into my side as I lay curled up in a ball. I had gotten off the floor, a few hours prior and had been laying like that since.

I waited for any more knocks to come, but it seemed like everyone was done humiliating me for that day. I supposed I had it better than other muggles. They were getting tortured and murdered this instant probably, cowering in some corner of their bedroom or kitchen, holding their children to their chests, lying to them and whispering that everything was going to be okay. I picked at the frayed edges of a hole in my jeans up on my thigh, showing off a small section of tanned skin. I thought of Mum holding Eli like that, cradling his head against her chest as they laid down on his small bed, tear tracks stained on her face. I thought of his little six-year-old voice asking, "Mummy?"

"Yes, my love?" Mum would whisper in her soothing voice, full of love and worry and sadness.

"Do you think Genny and Matty will be okay?" Eli would whimper, and he would look at Mum, his puppy brown eyes searching for her hazel ones in his dimly lit bedroom.

"Of course they're okay, my love. You know how clever and smart Matthew is, and you know how strong and brave Gennaveve is," Mum would assure him, but anyone could see the pain and doubt in her eyes as she would stroke his dirty blond hair and kiss his temple again.

I squeezed my eyes shut, more tears leaking out of my eyes as I thought of my younger brother. Matt would always play G.I. Joes with Eli though we were twelve years older than he was. I would watch and laugh, hanging upside down off of Eli's bed. Eli would excitedly show me his G.I. Joe Duke riding a toy dinosaur, and I would smile, telling him how brill it was. Then Matt and I would exchange glances of amusement, silently laughing at how bloody adorable our little brother was.

My heart tightened as I sobbed against the lumpy pillow. That would never happen again. Matty would never play G.I. Joes with Eli again, and I would never watch them. He was gone.

I wished I could stop thinking about all of that, wished that I could stop thinking at all. Then I thought of how Matt was always thinking and how he never stopped. That's who he was. He thought way too much and over-analyzed everything. He told me once that that was why he was placed in Ravenclaw, one of the four houses at his school. Ravenclaw was supposedly known for their wit and logic. Then he told me that I'd have been placed in Gryffindor and that he admired me for expressing my beliefs so openly, never caring what someone thought of me. I smiled briefly. We were complete opposites. I was act-without-thinking girl, and he was think-before-acting guy. And he was such a bloody know-it-all.

Also, not just our personalities were different; we were fraternal, so we had some differences in looks as well. He was tall and lanky with a strong jaw while I was short and curvy with dimples. His eyesight was horrid, and mine was twenty/twenty. His short blond hair was dark like Eli and Dad's, and mine and Mum's were bright. However, our eyes were exactly the same. Brown-and-green hazel with long eyelashes - which didn't really matter because they were blond anyway - and able to read each other like open books.

I felt my eyelids grow heavy and relaxed some. If I went to sleep, time would pass faster, and I wouldn't hurt as much. Dad always said everything takes time.

* * *

"Oi, Blondie."

I blinked drowsily and squinted up to find Wolfe leaning over me. She raised her eyebrows.

"Wotcher," she greeted, dragging the chair from the foot of my bed to the side by my face and taking a seat.

"What is it?" I questioned hoarsely, my voice still sore from crying before falling asleep last night. Or was it day? I already lost track of time. It's not like there was a window in my room to tell me so.

She held up a set of clothes in one hand and a bowl of soup in the other, and my eyebrows shot up as I saw the first thing on top of the pile of clothes.

"What the hell?" I asked, sitting up, instinctively putting a hand to my stomach, but surprisingly, I felt no pain. I then accepted the bowl from Wolfe, slurping at it hungrily and loudly.

"Oh yeah, I fixed your stomach," she said, taking out her wand from inside her robes and twirling it around in her fingers before dropping it expertly, making it shoot blue sparks. I stifled a giggle as her cheeks pinkened somewhat. She continued, picking her wand back up. "Jones pretty much made me because, well, he's a little impatient."

"Impatient? No kidding," I scoffed, looking up from my meal that was already halfway gone. I was surprised with myself at how at ease I felt with Wolfe. A smile flitted across her lips before it disappeared.

"Listen, just put these on okay?"

"Ugh," I moaned and downed the rest of my soup before putting the bowl down and grabbing the pile from her and looking at each individual piece. "Where the hell did they get these? A hooker?"

Wolfe was silent, and I looked back up at her. "Seriously?" I questioned, snorting. "Awesome. I'm gonna wear dead street walker clothes. Just bloody brilliant."

"Please just change your clothes," Wolfe asked, something flickering in her eyes. I couldn't tell what it was, though it was almost like they changed color.

I raised my eyebrows. "I didn't know murderers used manners."

I recognized what showed in her eyes then. Hurt. How utterly confusing.

"Just put the damn clothes on, Blondie. Yeah? Or else Jones'll come in here and put them on you himself," she said, exasperated.

I winced in disgust at the mental imagery, my skin crawling just at the thought of Jones putting his hands on me again. I looked down at the clothes then up to Wolfe to meet her gaze. We shared the contact for what seemed like over a minute. For some reason, I felt myself grabbing the clothes out of her hands. Also, I felt myself trusting her. I think I had already started before that point, but I knew I felt comfortable. Maybe it was because she was a fellow woman, I didn't know. But I trusted her.

I stood up and started to strip down until I was stark naked, finding that my bandage had disappeared. I heard Wolfe clear her throat, and I looked up to find her looking around the room awkwardly.

"Well, you sure as hell aren't shy now, are you?" she asked, amusement plain in her voice. I stifled a grin as I pulled on the skimpy black lingerie at the top of the pile.

"We're all girls here, aren't we?" I replied, then shimmying into a tight black dress that clung to every crevice and curve of my body. The bottom stopped high up on my thighs and the top plunged down farther than I'd ever worn before. I sighed, looking down at myself. "I look like a harlot."

Wolfe giggled, and my eyes shot up to her in surprise. She pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle her laughter. Despite the entire situation, I started laughing as well. There we were, in an ugly little room in an ugly little bar in the middle of nowhere, me standing barefoot in a dead prostitute's costume and Wolfe sitting in a chair in front of me in a wizard robe and her nose stud, laughing like lunatics. I suppose it _was_ rather funny.

"You, heh heh, you have these too," Wolfe chuckled, holding up two little deathtraps. Black stiletto peep-toed pumps. "I checked your trainers for your size before they went out earlier."

Luckily, I had practice with heels because of the family weddings I had been to, so I pulled them on and strutted around the room, shaky at first but then with ease. "How long have I been here?" I questioned after a few moment's silence as I raked my brush through my hair, glancing down at the bright blue colored toenails peeking out of my shoes.

"Three days. You slept through the first, yesterday was the second, and today is third."

I hummed in response then tossed my brush back to my bed, smoothing my dress down. "Well?" I inquired, doing a quick turn, hands on my hips.

Wolfe smirked. "Like a harlot."

A smile flitted across my lips before I frowned. "Guess that's my role, huh?"

She sobered and looked down at her feet. "Yeah. That's your role, B."

B? I suddenly wondered whether Wolfe liked me as well.

I inhaled deeply, not knowing what was going to happen in the next five minutes. I exhaled loudly before I walked past Wolfe, opened the door, and strutted out into the hallway. I, again, followed the loud music, listening to the footsteps of the female Snatcher behind me. As soon as I paraded into the bar room with, once again, my head held high and my hands on my hips, the cheers and whistles and cat-calls sounded raucously. The Snatchers parted, and at the end of the pathway sat Jones in a wooden chair with his legs open, an unfamiliar-looking bottle of liquor in his hand, and a drunken grin occupying his face. His eyes looked me up and down, and he whistled appreciatively.

"The slut look suits you, Blondie," Jones commented, beckoning me forward with his large hand, his voice a slight slur.

I gave him a large fake smile as I approached him, stopping just before the open spot between his legs. He patted his thigh, gesturing for me to take a seat. I held back a grimace as I obeyed, crossing my legs.

"What is it you want, my dear Jonesy?" I asked, glancing at the bottle in the hand that wasn't now holding my hip. His touch burned through my dress, and I already felt sick with myself.

Jones chuckled. "Just a good little dance from my good little slut." His alcohol breath washed over my face, and I was rewarded with the urge to vomit. I held it down and stood back up, just to straddle his lap, earning more leers and whistles from the crowd. I plucked the firewhiskey bottle from his hand, much to his amusement, and downed a large gulp. The back of my throat seared in a pleasant yet painful way, and I found myself buzzed already. The cheers seemed to grow louder.

Little dance, hmm? I got up off of Jones, pretending I wasn't about to do what I was about to do. I decided in the back of my mind that I was going to stay alive to see Eli again. To tell him to his face that everything was going to be okay. To make sure no one every hurt my family again. And to do that, I had to survive. And to survive, I had to give a wanker a lap dance.

I closed my eyes, turning around to have my back facing him. I listened to the music and started swaying my hips in time with the bass. I backed up, my whole body in tune with the music. I moved my ass along his leg and felt his crotch up with it. I moved in slow circles, grinding against him, feeling his hands grasp my hips. Again, his touch made me feel dirty, but I kept dancing, drowning out the audience and only listening to the music. I kept my eyes closed and my body moving. I turned back around and dropped my hips lower and lower, moving them slightly around in figure eights, then back up in the same motion. I opened my eyes to meet the pools of black, but he wasn't looking at me, just at my dancing body. I took another swig of firewhiskey.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

I moaned, sinking to my bathroom floor, pressing my flushed face against the cold tile after puking for the third time. I laid on the floor face down and squirmed out of my uniform, nudging it off to the side in a crumpled heap in the corner. My skin was too hot, and it itched. It crawled and felt dirty. I kicked my pumps off gently, trying not to move myself too much so I wouldn't feel the urge to vomit again. It didn't matter. I felt my stomach heave, and I pulled myself up to face the toilet just in time to have yet more firewhiskey come pouring out of my system. I felt my hair being pulled back from my face.

"Bloody hell, Blondie. I didn't even notice you drank that much," Wolfe's alto stated in awe.

"I didn't," I whimpered and collapsed to the ground once more, desperate to feel the cold tile against my fevered skin again. I sighed in relief as the tile pressed against my cheek, my chest and stomach, my arms, and my legs.

"It's probably because wizard alcohol has a different affect on muggles," Wolfe mused, and I listened as she turned the shower on. "Now get up, you drunk harlot."

The way she said this wasn't in an offensive way at all; she said it in a sort of teasing tone, and I felt a smile flirt with my lips. However, I groaned at the thought of moving again. "No... just leave it running. I'll get in eventually."

Wolfe hummed in thought but finally agreed. "All right then. Try not to puke anymore, B."

"I'll do my best," I grumbled into the tile.

The sound of the water hitting the shower floor was soothing, and my mouth felt suddenly dry and disgusting from the bile I had produced a few moments earlier. I lifted my head slowly to peer through the glass shower door. I felt a little surprised; I half-expected roaches and termites or at least freezing cold water to come out of the shower head. I was wrong. The hot water steamed up the bathroom pretty quickly.

With another groan, I got to my feet, swaying but catching myself at the edge of the sink. My head spun for a moment, but I was finally able to peel off the lacy underwear and bra and stagger forward to open the shower door and close myself in.

I moaned as soon as the warm water touched my skin. No matter how hot my skin felt, nothing would feel better than the water that poured out of that shower head right then. It pounded against my back at first, then I turned around and let some enter my mouth so I could rinse it out. After that, I even swallowed some, feeling the water run down my esophagus. It was nice to feel against my sore throat, and it had been a while since I had had a hot shower.

I closed my eyes and finally just focused on the water washing everything away. I might have been drunk when I gave Jones the lap dance and still drunk right then, but I remembered every part of his hands touching, holding, and pinching my hips, waist, butt, and legs. I shuddered then scrubbed at my skin after I felt it crawling. I don't know how long I scrubbed that night, but I know afterwards, I still felt dirty.

* * *

**AN**: And there was chapter two. Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Grammar errors? Let me know in a review!

Kisses,

JAWG


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